Outfoxed Her Own Death
by gamekeeper
Summary: Was Foxface really outsmarted by Peeta? One Shot, Read&Review!...


_Hello! Please review of what you think, and I'm thinking on doing these little one-shots of the tributes deaths on all twenty-two, so watch out for more! -Erin:) .._

I tiptoe around carefully on the ground that was still quite wet from the raging storm that had happened last night. Thinking of yesterday's storm reminds me of Thresh, who was so powerful, so strong, but still hadn't had enough to overcome Cato, who could snap a neck of the flex of is mighty muscles. I, who was by far the weakest of all in the arena now, will have to face one of the tributes at some stage of the games. I can't keep running and hiding for ever, the gamemaker's will make sure of _that_.

I decide to take a little break for a while, and scamper up a moss-covered tree and perch myself on a comfy and stable branch. I don't really have anything with me, except the pointy axe the Capitol decided I needed, and put it in my bag at the feast. I wasn't too bad at axe-throwing, if the opponent isn't too far away, but to be honest, the only chance I have of getting out of the arena alive is if the tribute is injured before I'm there, which I find highly unlikely. And if I got out, what would I have? An abusing father who didn't even come to say good-bye to me when I was reaped? No. I'd rather die. If I do get out, I'll have so much freaking money, I can get somebody to kill him for me. My mother was dead, killed by my father, whom threatened to kill me if I didn't keep my mouth shut. And that's how I became so sneaky, because every time my father was home I would always try to sneak past him, and it was only on the odd and unfortunate occasion that he was sober enough too actually catch me.

It's was so eerily silent, and I don't like it. It makes every movement or breath I take seem loud. . .

And that's when I hear them. Well, I hear the boy first, because I remember spying on him at the river, and I know he's injured, and probably can't be as quiet as Katniss.

They are far away, yes, but any moment now they'll be heading my way, and I could see the look on Katniss' face on the Reaping that she wouldn't hesitate to kill me if it meant getting home to her sister that she volunteered for. I wish I had somebody that I loved as much as Katniss loved her sister.

As quietly as I could possibly manage, I creep down the old tree and get down without making a noise. I hold my breath, as I can hear them. They're too close now, and will be here any second. I sprint in the opposite direction, being careful not to step on a single leaf.

I don't run a long way, just far enough that I can hear them a little. I sit behind an old oak tree as I listen to there muffled conversation.

"But . . . what if . . . comes and kills you?" Says Katniss, and I know there not talking about me, so they must be on about the bone-breaking Cato.

I hear Peeta give a laugh, and say something that I can't quite catch. They are making _so_ much noise, and they're lucky I'm the one that came across them and not Cato, who was obviously still grieving over his District partner, Clove. When I had spied on them at the lake, the look on Cato's face when he spoke to her was something different to an ally, or even a friend. I believe that they may have been in love, and that's why Cato was so determined to avenge Clove's death. Again, I wish I had someone that loved me as much as Cato loved Clove, or as Peeta loved Katniss . . .

I'm so caught up in my thoughts that I don't hear Peeta coming, even though he was very loud for a tribute that was in the top four.

He seems to be coming from the left, so I scamper into a cluster of bushes. I pray for him to carry on walking, but he stops directly at the bush I am in. At first, I think he's seen me when he reaches out, but then I see that he's picking some berries that I recall to be called Lantana, commonly known as Nightlock. One bite and they'll kill you, and I don't really think Peeta knows that. I stay quiet.

I cover my mouth with my hand, in attempt not to make any sound. Peeta picks more and more of the deadly berries, but finally turns the way he came. I silently clime out of the bush and watch him limp away.

I sit on the floor for a few minutes, just fiddling with the berries.

What would happen if I was to eat them? Obviously I would die, but isn't a hopefully painless and quick death better then a bloody and brutal one by Cato or Katniss? And really what is there if I was to go home? Nothing.

Slowly but surely, I pick up the Nightlock and hold them up. I close my eyes and murmur up to the sky-

"This is for you, Mum."

And I press the berries to my lips before I can change my mind.

I bite into the deadly fruit, and oh! How can something as dangerous and murderous as Nightlock taste so good? I take one last good look at the world, and everything instantly turns black as I am taken from the world.

The last thing I remember is my canon sounding.


End file.
